


Alt Girls Suffer, Too

by lalaloveyou



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Drug Addiction, F/M, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaloveyou/pseuds/lalaloveyou
Summary: He'd messaged her a link about a YouTuber responding to common arguments about communism, so she sent him a link to a video addressing the American Education School System's unfair treatment against black students.Then he responded with a thumbs-up emoji and said, “Isn't it horrible what capitalism is doing to those innocent children? ”She typed, “no its not capitalism its white ppl lol", but she quickly deleted this draft because the Russian was most likely Caucasian and might get insulted. He was much too nice for her to do that to him.
Relationships: Anarcho-Communism/Communism (Centricide), Genderbent Anarcho Communism/Communism, Tankie/Anarkiddie
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Alt Girls Suffer, Too

Today, she slept in until eleven, yet only got four hours of sleep. 

She checked discord.

Eight new messages from some strangers she'd met the night before on Quackity's server. The chemistry from the night before that she had with all of them would probably dissipate the moment she'd reply to them, and their messages would be dry and awkward and mechanical. And calling them would only result in even more awkward exchanges, with both of them anticipating when the other would hang up. 

So it'd be better to ignore them. 

But it'd be rude to ignore them, so Julliette replied to them all individually. 

Some of them simply didn't message her back. 

Some of them did. 

Some began conversations with her once again, keeping her glued to her bed and her screen and this false-reality. 

At twelve-thirty, she decided she needed to get out of bed. She needed to pee for several hours now, and her bladder was aching and she didn't necessarily want to get a kidney infection or whatever else not peeing for prolonged periods of time did to you. 

She had a lecture at one o' six, and couldn't afford to skip much more classes, so there was no time for a shower. Showers typically took, at most, fifteen minutes for her roommate. But how could she not lose track of time there? With the hot water beating on her scalp, her body, and onto the bathtub's floor with its rhythmic, loud taps…

She would forget the concept of time, in turn for the opportunity to think undisturbed. Well, undisturbed didn't accurately touch on that. Her train of thought would sometimes be interrupted with, how long have I been here? Or, aren't I wasting water? 

She'd never admit, but sometimes she wondered why she should take so many precautious efforts into "saving the planet" When people would never synchronize with this anyway-

She moaned once she felt a sharp pain in the bladder, and then she walked through her gloomy little flat and went into the bathroom. 

She looked at her face in the mirror, leaning on the sink. Oily and riddled with acne, not to mention she reeked. 

After completing her meticulous and daily routine of pee, brush your teeth, splash water on your face, she was ready to go. 

After class, she stumbled into the living room and sprawled out on the couch, clicking onto Netflix and deciding to resume Breaking Bad. 

The show had distasteful misogynistic undertones, with every female written to be villainous or dumb or both. But it was interesting and engaging and a good distraction from how much homework she had. 

Two forty-minute episodes of a diversion from her depressing reality later, and she heard the door open behind her and slam back into its frame. 

“Hey, ” Her keys jingled, and she threw them onto the table. “Julie?”

Juliette sat up, leaning forward with her arms around her knees and her hair a mess. 

“What's up? ”

“I'm going to visit my parents, ”

Her bag of groceries crumpled as she placed them on the table. 

“Oh, ”

Her name was Valerie, and she was Juliette's rock. Valerie being there, sleeping in their only other bedroom, meant that she couldn't stay up all night on discord debating Nazi's. 

She was short and slender, fair and brunette, and she was beautiful. She made sure Juliette didn't lose her mind by simply being there, somedays asking if Juliette had eaten yet and reminding her to do so.

Juliette knew of the silence and malaise she'd experience with Valerie gone, but she was a strong, fierce, and independent woman. Whoopie. 

No, she wasn't. 

Juliette flopped back on the couch. 

She was more like a pathetic excuse of a woman, ugly and covered in stretch marks

“Have fun, be careful.”

“I will. ”

She left promptly, leaving Juliette at precisely two-twenty-seven. 

She sat on her bed, staring at her closed laptop. 

It was dark outside and a car alarm just started blaring. 

She would find more productive alternatives to this. 

She would find more productive alternatives to this. 

She balled up her hands into fists. 

She would find more productive alternatives to this. 

She would find-

She opened it up, quickly signing in and clicking onto discord. 

Alright, Quackity's server was a blast. 

She joined one of those small, three people limited voice chats.

She dwelled inside it for hours, like how she once dwelt in her mother's womb, idle and ignorant to the outside world. Except this "womb" occasionally had people who'd ear rape their mic join the call, or people who'd just insult her over practically nothing. Once, a guy joined and began calling her a whore. Shame. 

Anyways, several hours full of either chaotic or dry conversations later, and some guy with a Karl Marx profile picture joined and said “Hello.”

“Marx, ”said Juliette. Attributor to the idea of a childish and unified society, but she could respect how he could be mildly held responsible for the cut of healthcare costs and providing more liberation tactics for minorities. 

His name was "porkyslayyer", and his voice was deep and low and Slavic. 

“Yes, comrade. Have you read his theory?”

“Of course I have. I'm an anarchist, ”she said, reaching over to grab her water bottle. 

“Anarkiddies are-”

He was interrupted by somebody who joined the call ear raping their mic, which made her slightly jump, but she quickly muted them. 

“Muted them, ”he said, and she imagined him, a voice who she could not attach a face to, rolling his eyes. 

“Same, ”she said. “I respect most of authoritarian-communism but don't follow it for the reason most people don't. It's…fascist.”

“Same with anarchism. Your society cannot function without a strong government establishing its ideals, considering kulaks will still try and feed their greedy ways by exploiting innocent and hardworking people. ”

"If they want to, give them that liberty, I guess. ”

“If they want that liberty, they may just move out to their little American kulak countries. ”

“Sounds a bit fascist… ”

The ear raping guy was still there and was taking up space. 

“Come on, comrade. You are culturally very left, yes? ”

“Of course I am, what do you take me for?”

“Well, our intentions can go hand in hand. You, the anarchists, assist us, the communists, to disband the predominantly white and fascist bourgeoisie and it is a mutual benefit. ”

“But what will happen to us afterward, then, since I don't completely align with all of your ideals? ”

“Either you work for the Communist Party, or you are sent to a labo- I mean, you are exiled. My apologies, my English isn't too good. ”

“Right… ”

Whoever dictated who was sent to gulags probably had more of an unjust incarceration bias towards minorities. She just couldn't get behind it. 

Earrape guy left, and some other person by the name of “pensi" With a profile picture of Squidward Tentacles coded to resemble a black person joined the call. 

“So, do you like any right-wing political ideas?”

“Well-”

“Say yes or she won't send you nudes, ”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

She was pissed now, she knew of her sensitivity and one of the most pathetic aspects of herself; her liability towards getting easily offended over the internet. 

“Oh, hello.” 

The commie guy uttered it like practically nothing was wrong like this was appropriate and ok when it wasn't. Just merely getting pissed off by this was pathetic, and she regretted not resisting the impulse to get on this app in the first place. 

She adjusted her gigantic headphones her head, “Well, anyways, the anarkiddie-, I do not think I identify with any right-wing ideals now that I think about it.”

“Interesting. If I had to get behind any left-wing ideology, it would probably be libertarianism.”

“Same, ”

“I think all women should be sent back to their rightful place; the kitchen. ”

“Traditionalist, ”said the commie. 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. No more of this. 

She sent the fascist a jump scare video, listened to him say, “The wahmen messaged me,” and then heard him scream a couple forty seconds after. She laughed and then left the call

For a while, she roamed through a far less active server and switched between being angry about what the Nazi had said to her, and regretting that she didn't add the commie as a friend. 

It's okay, she could go her entire life without talking to him.

She could be independent. 

She could be independent. 

She could be indep- 

But when she saw that he had added her, she was elated. 

She added him back after waiting a while. She didn't wanna add him too quickly and appeared desperate, however, when he called her, she joined the call immediately. 

“Hello, comrade. ”

“Hey, ”

She shifted around in her bedsheets and asked, “So, uh, why'd you call me? ”

“I wanted to know why you left… ”

She could not tell him why, she would look sensitive. 

“Ah, my roommate just walked in. ”

“Oh, I see, then. ”

“So, is that all you wanted? ”

Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. His voice was too hot and he felt too interesting. Please say no-

“Well, I was also wondering if you've ever read Das Kapital… ”

That he only wanted to talk to her to give input on his political ideas upset her, but at least someone wanted to speak to her. 

“No, I have not. ”

“Hmm, well-”

And then she kinda zoned out from there on out as went into an extensive rant about the industrial revolution. 

It was quite boring, and she didn't care about it very much. 

If only he'd start a conversation she legitimately wanted to contribute to. Wait, why couldn't she just stare at a conversation? 

She waited for him to pause his speech and finish talking before she asked, “So, uhm, what are your hobbies? ”

And she could tell he was the type of person to not have much more interests outside of politics, because he simply said, “Uhh, well… I like music… 

Then he started talking about Russian doomer metal and bored her once again. 

“What about you, comrade? 

“Oh, I, uh… ” think, what hobbies did she have? Her days frequently just consist of waking up late, brushing her teeth, doing homework, and spending the entire day fatigued and online. So, what's something interesting and normal she could say she liked to do? “I dunno. ”

“You… Don't know? ”

“Yeah. I don't really do much all day except be on the internet. ”

“Interesting… is that how you got into politics? ”

“Well, kinda. ”

“Let me rephrase, ”she envisioned them at a small, French café. A tall Russian with a black shirt, leaning forward from across a small wooden table and inquiring, “How did you get into politics? ”

“Actually, I got into them when I started dating. How I was treated got me into, erm…” saying this was surely risky, but if he got pissed by it then natural selection would do it so that he stops talking to her because of it, “feminism.”

“Oh, ”he said, “That's wonderful. ”

She eased up a bit and smiled, but he could not see that; he could not see her. 

“Thank you, ”

“I know of many feminists who were very strong communists and marxists! ”

“Yeah…I've noticed the pattern.”

“Ah, comrade, I have to go to bed, now. I apologize. I have to work tomorrow… ”

“No, no. It's ok. It was nice talking to you, goodnight. ”

“Goodnight, ”he said, and she imagined him saluting towards her in a Soviet uniform. 

Then he went to bed, and she realized that it was six pm and she had yet to eat dinner, so she got up to order a pizza. 

The next day, she didn't have school, and Valerie had still not come back. The Russian hadn't even messaged her yet, so unfortunately their conversation last night was only a one-time thing. 

Valerie had a boyfriend. Like, a real one. Sometimes he came over and he and Valerie would cuddle up on the couch and watch movies, or sometimes she'd go to his place and the next morning is sore from the night before. 

She had a regular, healthy relationship. Contrasting her love life to Valerie's, or lack thereof, made Juliette cringe. l

Why couldn't she just be normal? 

She crawled back into her unmade bed, pushing the empty pizza box to the ground, and napped for a few more hours. 

When she woke up, she checked her phone and found out that the Russian had messaged her thirty minutes prior. 

He'd messaged her a link about a YouTuber responding to common arguments about communism, so she sent him a link to a video addressing the American Education School System's unfair treatment against black students. 

Then he responded with a thumbs-up emoji and said, “Isn't it horrible what capitalism is doing to those innocent children? ”

She typed, “no its not capitalism its white ppl lol", but she quickly deleted this draft because the Russian was most likely as pale as snow and might get insulted. He was too nice for her to do that to him. 

She just sent, “yea :((((( i wish we could do something about it in our lifetime but frankly it seems unlikely that itll be abolished in the near future"

He automatically started typing his reply, which frankly made Juliette feel a lot less insecure and like this desperateness for company was mutual. 

“With the help of participating in activism, we will assist the movement and the future party. ”

Then he sent, “are you a part of any activist groups?”

“no… .. are u? ”

“Yes. I'm part of the Communist Party of Canada. ”

Her eyes went wide. 

“NO WAY YOU'RE FROM CANADA TOO????? I'M FROM TORONTO DUDE WBU???? ”

“How great! I am also from Toronto! However, I am currently visiting family in Russia… are you from Toronto? ”

“yes sir”

“Wow!! Me too!! 😄”

Then there was a long silence, well, a pause where she looked away from her phone for a while and then back at it again. 

“So, you go to the Uni of Toronto right? ”

For two months they talked regularly, mostly over call. 

She'd seen his face within a week, and fuck, he was so hot. 

He had great cheekbones and a sharp jawline, accentuated a lot by a ushanka he frequently had in his photos. She thought of the ushanka as a bit ugly, but oh well, it was his decision. He also wore this trenchcoat a lot, so fashion wise he sort of resembled a school shooter along with the hammer and sickle on his hat. 

He told her his name was Joseph, and she told him her name was Julie.

She'd shown him a picture of herself, and he'd respectfully replied with, “Huh, nice! ” 

Not wanting to imply that he saw her as more than a friend, and not wanting to imply that he saw her as less. 

Then he suggested that they meet up in real life, because he was having a tankie meet-up or rally or party or something, and the following day- she was sent into a sort of several hour-long panic attack. 

What if their first encounter was awkward? Of course it'd be, they met under unusual and unique circumstances. But they could surpass that first stage and blossom into a new friendship, couldn't they? 

What if they fucked? 

She didn't exclude the possibility, no, never. 

If they fucked… she would forever have to live with knowing that she slept with a guy she met on Discord. 

Now, what if they legitimately pursued a good and long term relationship? 

How would they tell their little mixed Cuban-Russian babies about how they met? 

She could imagine the two of them, Joseph and her, together on a couch next to a fireplace in a big home with several light brown Russian-Spanish and English speaking children playing on the ground. 

“Mama, where did you and papa meet? ”Their hybrid would ask, and Juliette would say, 

“Well, sweetie, papa and I met via Quackity's server… ”

It was an absurd notion. She couldn't wrap her head around it. 

She could look at absolutely no previous occurrences in history for reference on what to do when a hot Russian guy from the internet suggests you meet up, because absolutely no previous history civilizations had technology like this. 

Well, that was a stupid idea. Many many people in her generation faced a similar situation, who probably documented their experiences on Reddit or something… 

She stomped towards her phone and typed out her agreement to this arrangement and pressed send. She had to do this blindly and quickly, had to make it so that she couldn't come back so she'd have to go and so that she'd have to meet him, otherwise she'd chicken out and regret doing so. 

So they orchestrated this meet-up for next week. It was public, of course it was. She wasn't stupid. Pathetic, yes. But not that stupid. 

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. 

She did not know how to do makeup. 

She could go out… Naturally. She didn't need makeup. Joseph had probably but so little effort into his appearance, so why shouldn't she do the same? Fucking societal standards. She was pretty as she was, even with a few blackheads. 

She literally hadn't put this much effort into herself since her, uh… well, fifth-grade choir concert. 

Now she went outside, because they agreed to meet up outside of the library. She yelled at Valerie about where she was going, and when she'd be back, so she didn't get murdered and was on her way. 

She immediately caught sight of him, and he was texting someone- no, scrolling through Instagram- no, scrolling through…/pol/? Fuck, she couldn't tell. She wanted to run back, run back home to Valerie like a little girl to her mommy, and then eat unhealthy amounts of left-over spaghetti. 

She sort of froze, and then he looked at her. His eyes were sharp and a very, very light gray, and they vaguely resembled the iciness of snow. 

He walked up to her, and she suddenly became very conscious of how short her plaid-skirt might be. But then he smiled and held out his hand, saying, “Comrade, ” he was so much taller than her and his voice was so deep and it was so weird to watch him talk because now he was seriously established in her reality but-

She wanted him to ravish her. 

She shook his hand and smiled back like they were two revolutionaries or something. 

It was awkward at first, yes, but they got used to each other. 

After talking for a bit and wandering around campus for a while, they decided to head for some small pizza place downtown, hence how they ended up sitting across from the other at a small table whilst Joseph gave lengthy criticisms on Max Stirner. 

She was trying to pick up the cheese falling from her slice of pizza while he talked about how collectivization still satisfies the ego. 

It wasn't a French café, but she could still appreciate the moment. 

She also couldn't stop focusing on how gigantic Joseph's hands were. Like, seriously, they were practically twice the size of her face and it was kinda freaky. 

“Blah, blah, blah, politics… ”her converses had accidentally brushed besides Joseph's kneecap while she was swinging her legs back and forth, so she stopped doing so and planted her feet still. “Let's talk about something else, like…How's your relationship with your mother? ”

Joseph straightened up his posture a bit, “I am glad you asked, my friend. Amazing. We have one of the strongest in the world!”

“Woah! Calm down there, we're discussing your parental relationship, not prepping you for a speech to give to your little Soviet army.”

He chuckled, as if she were actually funny, as if this stupid fucking side of herself that she acted as whenever she got too comfortable was even the least bit tolerable. 

“Julie?”He asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Comrade, when are you supposed to be home?”

“Ah. Twelve-thirty, and it's… ”she reached into her pocket and glanced at her phone, “...eleven-fifty-four, I'll have to be going home. ”

She stood up, her chair dragging across the tiled floor with an irritating screech. He followed, and they went outside. 

It was cold and wet and she could see her breath whenever she exhaled. Fortunately, she had a large, green hoodie on, but her skirt didn't do her much justice. At least she was wearing thigh highs. 

Nothing much special happened on the way back home. She did briefly speak to Joseph about how incarceration would work in an anarchist utopia, but that was really it. He was such an intent listener. Then he dropped her off and said he'd be heading back home as well, and for a second, Juliette forgot to get pissed at the patriarchy for making it so that she has to worry about walking home at night. Shame. 

So she went back into her bedroom, took off her bra and changed into an oversized swim-team shirt, and threw away the old pizza box in the trash. 

When she laid in bed she thought, is this it? Is this what being wanted feels like? 

The next day, Valerie asked her why she looked so distracted

Ok. This weekend, then. 

She would ask him to come to her. 

He would come to her flat while Valerie was away, and she'd use the justification that they would read some political theory together and watch documentaries about the USSR. 

When she texted Joseph and asked this of him, he sent, “Of course, I will bring my copies of the Communist Manifesto. ”

When he showed up at her doorstep, he literally brought his copies of the Communist Manifesto. 

“Come in, ”she said, stepping aside. 

She'd dress much more casually so that she looked less like she was trying to participate in DDLG and more like she was actually twenty and in college. 

“How are you, comrade? ”

He slipped off his boots, leaving them at the door and looking around her flat which she'd made sure to clean numerous times before him coming here. 

“I'm okay, ”

“I see. And you've got vodka in your kitchen, no? ”

Oh, fuck-

He chuckled, “I kid, comrade. May I sit?” 

She watched him point to her couch and nodded.

“Here, come sit next to me. I will not actually recite this entire manifesto with you, let us watch some movies, hm? ”

She smiled and practically jumped next to him, startling him, she grabbed the remote and powered on the TV, and made sure to keep a reasonable distance. 

But she couldn't focus on this. 

He looked so big and warm and welcoming. 

But she had to keep her distance because she was respectful and not a lunatic. 

She had fallen asleep at the second documentary, and woken up to Joseph whispering and shaking her awake. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking around and noticing how much darker it was outside. 

“I'm sorry… ”

“No, it's fine, ”he said, powering off the TV. “You're tired, go to bed. I'll leave and call you later, ok? ”

She nodded, like Joseph was her mother and she was his daughter who he would always take care of, even in the most depressive of episodes. 

He grabbed the blanket which was sprawled around the couch mostly for decoration and placed it onto her, saying his goodbyes and then leaving back home; and then she slept the best she had for months now. 

When she woke up, she felt amazing. Comfortable, energized, and she was clean because she'd actually showered the night before. 

She wondered when Joseph woke up today, or if he had even woke up yet- wondered if he'd had his cigarette for breakfast yet.

Perhaps his hair was messy in the morning, perhaps he slept only in his boxers like a lot of other guys she knew, perhaps he was more outgoing directly after waking up. 

She sighed and got up to actually pee and brush her teeth. 

Even after knowing him for eight months, she began to suspect he was gay. 

He never made flirtatious jokes with her, never teased her, and hardly ever complimented her. 

Perhaps she just wasn't his type, yes, but come on- they were practically together twenty-four/seven! It just became the norm for him to chatter to her after her regular one-o'-clock lecture outside of the classroom, he would come to her flat a lot and they would often watch YouTube together in her room- and- and-

Did he just not reciprocate any romantic feelings? 

Maybe he was gay… 

This weekend, he had invited her to come to his flat, because he “decided he wanted to introduce himself to other media which didn't exclusively include politics. ” 

When she suggested that they watch “Better Call Saul" Together, he admitted he'd use her for recommendations and that yes, watching the prequel to Breaking Bad sounds fun. 

So she showed up at his door with a bag of Cheetos and that was that. 

His room had a gigantic workers rights poster and a bed that looked far too small for his gigantic-ass, along with a TV which was propped up on his dresser and once she looked closely enough- there was a polaroid photo of him shirtless with a ushanka and sunglasses on, smiling with a bottle of vodka with what looked to be a rave going on behind him. There was also some chick with her tits out in the background.

She looked away and back towards Joseph, who was currently sitting crisscrossed and searching up “better caul sawl" In the Netflix search bar. 

Eventually, she ran out of Cheetos, so they paused the show and went into the kitchen. 

She leaned against the counter and groaned.

”Why is everything in here so healthy? ”

“I live a healthy lifestyle, here- try these. ”

He tossed a small, predominantly green bag towards her, and she quickly caught it and read the label. 

“What the fuck! ”She glared at the bag harder and squinted her eyes, “Veggie chips? ”

“Mhm, ”he said. “Regular chips, but healthier! ”

She side-eyed him and placed them on the counter, turning around and opening the cupboard above her. 

It was just piled up with all that… healthy stuff, but the longer she peered at it, she noticed a bag of chocolate animal crackers at the back. 

“Oo! ”

She tried to stand on her toes to reach, but her attempts were futile and she couldn't grab it. 

“Hey, Joseph, could you-”

When she turned around, he wasn't necessarily pressed against her, but close enough. 

She was close enough to him that she realized she wasn't the only conscious, functioning human being on earth. Because maybe if she leaned forward a bit more into his chest, she'd be able to feel his heartbeat. A vital sign which implied he was alive. 

He reached up above her head to grab the chocolate animal crackers, and his shirt rode up and she could see his abdomen and only slightly lower. 

She froze and looked up at him, and then he nudged the bag towards her so she could grab it. 

“Oh, I'm sorry-”

“It's ok, ”

She quickly slipped away from underneath him and back into the bedroom

They weren't chattering about the show anymore. He was practically glued to that TV and she kept taking intermediate breaks between glancing at Joseph and then back at the show, which she had no idea what was going on in. 

She decided to focus on the TV, instead.

Currently, some assassin-esque character was fighting with some bulky gangster-dude. They were grunting and screaming with some intense combat over intense music, and Joseph was leaning forward, completely immersed. 

“I bet I could learn how to do that within a day, ”she said, making Joseph turn his head. “Looks so easy, like a dance.”

“It's not, ”he said, looking back towards the TV. “My uncle was a KGB spy. He taught me a few things about combat- ah, I can still feel Uncle Vlad dropkick me in the stomach… ”

“Ouch… ”

“Well, he was just making a man of me. ” 

He was looking at the ground now, but returned to watching the show. 

“Being a man does not mean being void of emotion. ”

“Thank you, I suppose… ”

There was a long pause between the two, and then-

“How was Russia?”

“It was horrible. Someone's grandpa would always talk about World War Two, and once I saw a squirrel having sex with a possum.”

She giggled, and he glared at her.

“You find that funny?”

“Yes, ” she said. 

“Weird. I was traumatized.”

“Have you ever been sat on?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been, like- ok, lay down.”

She crawled towards him on all fours, gradually pushing him on his back.

“Once I dated this Puerto Rican guy, and we were making out, and he-” she straddled his waist and watched him peer at her. 

She grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. 

“What did he do?” 

His voice was lower and accentuated.

“He spat in my mouth.”

He broke into laughter, which made her smile.

“Reminds me of this one time...”

“Hm?”

“My girlfriend at the time, she was sucking me off and...”

“And?”

“She, uhm, put her finger into my...”

“Your asshole?”

He nodded.

“That's hot, but... I seriously never want to hear you talk about your girlfriend again.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

While she was staring down at him, he wriggled out of her grasp, and then she was trying to balance herself and his hands were underneath her shirt and moving up her bare waist. 

“Why?”

“I...”

Fuck. 

He kept going higher and higher and eventually grabbed her breasts, his hands were warm and callused and he kept rolling her nipple with his fingers and he seemed to...really enjoy kneading them?

“You're going to going to have to spell it out for me, I can't understand anything you're saying when you're only moaning.”

His hands slid out from underneath her shirt, and he kinda… maneuvered them both so that he had her pinned down and was pressed against her tight. 

“Because I'll- I want you to myself...”

Then he kissed her hard and deep and stuck his tongue into her mouth and his fingers underneath her waistband, and she whined because he was teasing her clit and then pressing one long finger inside of her and it was all way too much. 

The way he worked his fingers inside of her was slow, and she kept curling her toes or moving her head to the side. 

“Такая мокрая… ”he whispered against her neck, which made her shiver and her temperature go up by one million degrees. 

“Fuck me… ”she said to him, and he pulled away from the crook of her neck and looked at her. 

“I assumed I would… ”

“I'm on the pill. Do it now. ”

“Yeah? ”

“Yeah.”

He sat up and undid his pants and his cock sprang out. 

She loved how Europeans were (mostly) always uncircumcised. 

Then he pressed his cock to her opening and slowly pushed it in. Too afraid to hurt her, he didn't really begin to pick up the pace until she reassured him explicitly that it really wasn't painful. 

So having someone be your boyfriend was extremely quite strange and felt alien, because it'd always just been Juliette and Juliette only. 

But now there was was this leach latching onto her, except she couldn't fucking depart from it, because if she got away from Joseph - well… 

She remembered when she was around seventeen and hooked on opioids, after her first overdose, and the first week she was off them she slept for like, thirty hours. She kept vomiting and fortunately, her dad saw to it that she did not leave that hospital. 

She was miserable, departed from her lover that was oxycontin. 

Of course, being away from Joseph hadn't necessarily felt this physically painful, but she did try to test her waters and see how long she could go without talking to him, and the resemblance between how she felt during that period of withdrawal was uncanny. 

Her outlook on life, her entire being, it could not just abruptly become Juliette and Joseph. So she tried to get away from this…This leach, and she could hardly move through her days without almost everything reminding her of him. 

Last night, he ate her out for the first time. 

She was lying down in bed and he was in between her thighs. He smirked up at her before he traced his tongue in circles around her clit, and he didn't stop fucking her until she was shaking. 

In the morning, he placed his ushanka on her head and laughed, as it was much too big for her head. 

Fuck, she was craving a xanny.


End file.
